I confessed I did not know. It came at regular intervals. When the
car ran fast it was quick, when I slowed down it lessened in
frequency but not in volume. I stopped and looked under the hood,
but could find nothing amiss. So we continued on our way. It seemed
to grow worse, and soon the whole car was shaken by the jar. Then I
remembered I had never tested the valves to see if they leaked, so I
again lifted the hood and dropped a few drops of oil on each of the
valves in turn and started the engine up. Yes, that was the trouble,
Nos. 2 and 4 were not quite tight. I was much pleased with myself,
and when I had tightened them took my place at the wheel,
congratulating myself on being such a good mechanic. Indeed, I did
not think Ruth overstated the case when she said: "I think you are
wonderful." But, alas! the noise and the jar continued, and I began
to fear that some serious injury had been sustained.
When I opened the hood once more I showed Ruth how to start the
engine so that I could test the engine better than when it was at
rest. I put my head down so near the cylinder that I nearly burned
my ear, and found that there was no noise at all! I then told her to
let in the clutch and let the car run on the road slowly. "I said
'slowly'!" I cried, as the motor nearly ran over me. So Ruth tried
again. I hopped along by the side of the car as best I could,
hearing the distressing noise more plainly than ever, coming, I was
now convinced, from the interior of the cylinder.
"We have broken a piston-rod," I said in a calm but desperate tone,
"and the car will have to be laid up for an indefinite time to
replace it."
"But how could we break a piston-rod when we have met with no
accident that could break anything?" exclaimed Ruth.
Like a doctor who has diagnosed a case to his own satisfaction, I
could afford to be patient with a layman, so I replied: "Well, you
see there is sometimes a flaw in the metal, and the mere expansion
and contraction by heat and cold may cause the metal to break without
any concussion at all."
It was a tiny village in which we had stopped, but all the
inhabitants had assembled, and it was surprising to see how many of
them there were!
"What's the trouble?" said one.
"A broken piston-rod," I replied tersely. Indeed, annoying as it
was, I felt a certain pride in the gravity of the situation! I was
like a man seized with a sudden pain in the night, whose trouble the
doctor declares to be "appendicitis"; he is alarmed, but still has
the satisfaction of feeling that the family will now know that he did
not call them from their beds for a vulgar stomach-ache!
I was about to inquire if there was any one in the village who had a
horse which could tow us to the nearest garage, when Ruth remarked:
"There is one funny thing about it----"
This did irritate me, and I sarcastically remarked: "I am glad your
sense of humor is so keen. I suppose I am dull, but a broken
piston-rod does not strike me as 'humorous."
Her eyes filled with tears, as they always do when my ill temper
takes the form of sarcasm, and I felt like the brute I am. So I
hurriedly added: "It's all right, honey, what were you going to say?"
"I was only going to say," said she, with a gulp, and tactfully
changing the form of her remark, "that it seems strange that we
should hear no sound when we are standing still and the engine
running if the trouble is a piston-rod."
I pondered this for a moment and then said: "Well, let's see if that
is so." I started the engine and it ran as sweetly as one could
wish, but as soon as the car began to move--bump, bump, bump was
heard louder than ever.
At that moment an urchin, who had been doing some investigating on
his own hook, called out: "Your tire's flat!"
The announcement was as reassuring and as humiliating as to have the
doctor say, when you were convinced you had appendicitis, "What the
deuce have you been eating?" This tiny layman had diagnosed
correctly a case which the learned of the faculty had failed to
understand! He promptly received his fee and scampered off with his
companions to spend it before Ruth and I had reached the back of the
car and were gazing at a long nail protruding from the tire of one of
the rear wheels.
I had never changed a rim before, but I remembered the agent had told
me that it took three minutes. It did--and twenty-seven more--but
what was that compared with a week's waiting to have a broken
piston-rod replaced?
When we were again under way, I said: "We were talking this morning
about the guarantee on tires, and I ought to have explained that the
guarantee, of course, refers only to the bursting of a tire and not
to an accident like this." Why is it we men cannot make up our minds
to tell the truth to the wives of our bosoms? I have not in mind now
our wickedness but our folly. Ruth knew as well as I did that this
great truth had not dawned on my clouded brain until the rusty nail
had punctured the tire and my ignorance at the same time! Of course
she expressed her gratification at this bit of valuable information.
What would women do with their spare time if they did not have to
waste so much of it in "saving the faces" of their lords!